


Pokétopia

by persistent_pedantry



Series: The Escapades of Minerva and R [20]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22990156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persistent_pedantry/pseuds/persistent_pedantry
Summary: Think Zootopia, but Pokémon and with crime.
Series: The Escapades of Minerva and R [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483421
Kudos: 1





	Pokétopia

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first work in 2019 and still probably my favourite Pokémon piece. It was meant to be a pilot of sorts for a larger story, but I decided that sapient Pokémon is more PMD's area. Maybe I'll come back to it someday, but for now, this'll do.

“You don’t seem to know how these... transactions work.” R says, tilting his head slightly in interest. The refined Kalosian tone seems uncharacteristic from such a malicious appearance, but here he stands, a Houndoom quietly waiting to speak. Glamorous at times, his job doesn’t offer him access to many exotic places. Standing in a desolate alley with only the orange glow of streetlights struggling through the darkness of midnight. It’s the perfect time for a handoff, if you’ve ever seen a crime film in your life.

“I definitely know how they work,” one of three assures, the Golbat carefully eyeing the Dark type. “Know what else I know? That Houndoom don’t talk like that. You a Zoroark or something? Cut the shit and talk to us properly.” The two Pokémon behind him, a Mightyena and Dusclops, stand in wait — for what is to be said. As far as R could tell, they were bodyguards, albeit poor choices.

“Just take the money,” comes a voice in R’s head. Perhaps it’s his id, his sense of greed, or the strictly telepathic communicator standing beside him. “We have a good advantage; we can just hit and run,” she continues, seemingly oblivious on how, while Gardevoir can teleport, Houndoom certainly can’t.

R ignores her, bearing his teeth in a passively threatening smile. “I am, Guiles. I’m saying to you, most clearly, that I expect to be directly paid for my work, and that I don’t give my products away without proof of payment. This is how I operate.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” The Golbat asks, lowering slightly from the air to meet R’s level. “Do you know I am? What my guys can do?”

“Of course I know who you are; I addressed you by name,” R mutters impatiently.

The Golbat ignores him, continuing. “I’m one of the biggest Poison type traffickers on the market. My guys? Toughest in the city. We don’t do negotiating; we do this: you give us what we want, I decide if we want to pay you, and you whimper away to find another customer.”

“Wow, this guy is a fucking dork,” the Gardevoir scoffs, glancing down to R. Thankfully, it’s only a slight height difference, just under a foot or so. “What’s the plan, then? You gonna listen to me?”

R continues to ignore her, his smile returning as a complacent grimace. “Weakness to Psychic; Mightyena has a weakness to Fairy; Dusclops has a weakness to both Dark and Ghost. I don’t care who you are and neither does she,” he explains, briefly nodding towards his partner. “Neither of us want violence to erupt here, of all places, so why not just drop the money and leave? I wouldn’t like to waste the energy.”

“Oh, so that’s how we’re doing this?” Guiles asks, moving back to find some distance for the Mightyena and Dusclops to move forward. “You sure you wanna throw away your life that easy? Hell, maybe I’ll be nice and keep you alive to sell. Sure, I deal with Poison types, but your accent makes me sick enough for it to count.”

“Now, now, hold on,” R begins, stammering slightly as he takes a step back, planting it into the concrete. “I just need to discuss this with my consolidate.” He looks to Minerva, his expression flat. “ _Tuez le chauve-souris en premier._ ”

“ _Pigé,_ ” she replies.

A swathe of flames fills the alley, R charging through to snap at the Mightyena’s neck, connecting with a harsh crunch and a helpless cry in response.

Minerva disappears, only to push off the concrete from behind, covering Guiles in a harsh energy and slamming him down into the flames.

The Houndoom quickly moves to Dusclops, charging into him with flames pouring from his maw. It didn’t take too long for the flames to catch, quickly covering the Ghost type.

Dusclops roars out, an arm cloaked in dark energy quickly swinging at R — only to be interrupted by a Shadow Ball to the face. They fall, with Minerva’s lithe frame landing on top of them.

“That was a lot easier than I thought,” she remarks with a hum, hopping down from the bandaged, scorched body. “Is the Mightyena dead?”

“Crushed windpipe,” R replies. “I’ve found that a failed respiratory system is effective against nearly every type. How is the Golbat?”

“Pretty much dead, but he could go either way. Depends on if we heal him or not, I think; I hit him pretty hard.”

“It looks like it.”

Guiles groans, barely having the breath to. His right wing is shattered, leaving him immobile — were he even able to muster the energy. He tries to turn to R, only to see the Houndoom looking down on him from above.

“Where’s the money?” He asks, embers still falling from his maw.

He groans.

He steps on the injured wing, asking again through the Golbat’s pained screams. “Again, where?”

“I, I didn’t! I didn’t, I didn’t have any! I, I swear!” Guiles cries out, only quieting when R lifts his paw.

“Wonderful,” R sighs, beginning to make his way to the alley’s exit. “Clean up here, please. Feel free to poke about in his mind, see if he’s lying or not.”

“Nah, his emotions say just immediate desperation. Not really any point in poking,” she replies, her voice resonating in his mind as always.

“Good. Just kill him, then.”

Ignoring the sudden outcries and begging, Minerva promptly follows R, the outcries silenced as soon as they started. “Kinda sucks. Do we just free the product, then, or...?”

“We’ll send them to Fawkes. He likes them. Teleport, please,” he replies, holding his paw out.

“Oh, good, I thought we were gonna walk,” Minerva says with a relieved sigh, quickly taking his hand. A precious second passes, then another, then—

“Thank you,” R says, walking off towards the bedroom.

The sensation of teleportation is... a strange one. It’s a very sudden one, so it can be a shock to your body, but since you need to visualise where you want to be, maybe the body prepares for that? It’s a science; a science that Minerva has mastered, as she never cares to stop reminding him.

Their apartment is a very modest sort for such prosperous... er, traders. It has a fridge, a TV, some other little amenities; it’s more like a hotel room, though. The lounge, kitchen, dining room; it’s all the same room, with the only separations being the bedroom and bathroom. None of it is particularly luxurious, but if they were to spend their money on lavish livings, then they’d have to move home every other week. Instead, they simply have a number of small apartments dotted around Pokétopia, each as inconspicuous as the last.

I’d tell you about Pokétopia, but I’m sure you’re getting a bit tired of the exposition. Here’s a short version: Pokémon are the dominant species. Working together throughout the regions, they’ve made a great city known as Pokétopia. As with every city, there is harmony, conflict, prosperity, and criminals — which is, as you may have guessed, where R and Minerva are most prominent.

“Do you want something to eat?” Minerva asks, looking towards the bedroom. At least telepathy means she doesn’t have to shout.

“No. Get the Holo Caster ready and call Fawkes when you can; I need to get this fur out of my mouth.”

Snorting quietly, Minerva picks up the Holo Caster from the kitchen counter, placing it on a small coffee table nearby an equally small TV. “Okay, the old guy—“

**BZZZZZZZT.**

“Sweet Arceus, what is it?” R asks impatiently, raising his voice for Minerva to hear. “Get the door.”

With a step and flicker, Minerva rests a hand against the door, looking through the spyglass. “It’s a Noctowl,” she says. “He’s wearing a tie.”

**BZZZZT. BZZT. BZZT.**

“I think he’s getting impatient.”

“Answer the door, do your thing.”

Taking a moment to put herself into character, lightly hopping from foot to foot, Minerva opens the door. She rests against the doorframe, smiling with gentle seduction. “May I help you?” She asks the Noctowl, watching him with a near-sultry gaze.

“My name is PI Nox, ma’am,” he replies flatly. “I’m a private investigator researching the recent upheaval in organised crime. May I come in?”

Minerva puts on a confused expression, idly brushing aside parts of her natural gown. “Organised crime? Are you asking door t—“

“Miss Minerva, you are not the only psychic in this city,” Nox interrupts, motioning past her. “I would like to come in, please. I am not here to arrest you nor your partner. This is of greater importance.”

The change in expression is almost comical. Minerva sighs heavily, stepping back to begrudgingly let him in. “Sure, fine. You don’t need to be psychic to figure what’ll happen if you don’t play nice, though.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” He makes his way inside, nodding in thanks as Minerva closes the door behind him. “Could you, perhaps?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighs again. “Hey,” she begins, the telepathy switching to the resting Houndoom. “He’s a PI. He wants to talk about some organised crime stuff.”

“Is he with Fawkes?” R asks, lazily getting up.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Kill him.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Nox speaks up, both Minerva and R jolting in surprise. “I am only here to help. I’m not with The Auctioneer, but it does concern him, his clientele, and you two.”

R steps out of the bedroom, eyeing Nox. “Well, sit down and explain yourself,” he orders simply, nodding towards the lounge.

Once R and Nox were seated, with Minerva idly pacing around the room, Nox clears his throat. “Stating the obvious, The Auctioneer’s trafficking ring is the most successful in Pokétopia, and one of the biggest criminal organisations we’ve known. I don’t endorse it, granted, but at least The Auctioneer and his cohorts are willing to negotiate and control their occupation. They’ve noticeably helped Pokétopia to grow, as you both surely know.”

“Is this gonna be something to do with the the Vens?” Minerva asks, looking over with arms crossed.

“It is,” Nox answers with a nod. “R, I assume you know about the Venatores?”

“It’s Latin for ‘Hunters’. They’re a group of drug pushers, though I haven’t heard much of them lately. Are they making a rise?” R shifts in his seat, smoke slowly rising from between his fangs.

“Somewhat,” Nox replies. “Sources show that they’re... expanding business. There’s been an exponential rise in missing Pokémon in Venatore territory.”

Minerva groans. New competition. Great. “So, we’re looking at a turf war?”

“Essentially, yes,” the Noctowl replies. “Violent crime has also risen with clear correlation. They’re a pugnacious group with eyes set on The Auctioneer and his organisation, so action must be taken to prevent a conflict.”

“So, you want us to help with that? Use our influence to... do, do we even have influence?” Minerva sputters, looking at R.

“We have some influence, but nothing enough. I will speak to The Auctioneer about it,” the Houndoom replies calmly, looking back to Nox. “Why are you here? Are you trying to get to The Auctioneer through us, perhaps?”

“As you’re two of The Auctioneer’s most prosperous Pokémon Hunters, so I’ve heard, you’re my strongest link to him — so yes.”

“I imagine you understand how dangerous that could be if there’s a misunderstanding. I’ve spent decades building the reputation and trust I have in the market. I will not have Minerva, or myself, jeopardised by this.”

“Yes, I understand this,” Nox nods with slight impatience. “It’s a small risk to take for the benefit it could give, however.”

“It seems pretty shifty, some ‘PI’ coming out of nowhere and asking for a way to see Auc’,” Minerva adds, eyeing Nox with a curious smile. “Do you have some kind of failsafe? Some leverage we could use?”

“No.”

R glances at Minerva, having fallen silent. Eventually, he blows out another puff of smoke. “We’ll consider it.”


End file.
